


A Special Soulmate

by DaisyMayTinklePants



Category: Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 14:46:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12038127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyMayTinklePants/pseuds/DaisyMayTinklePants
Summary: Soulmate AU where people have the first words their soulmate will say to them somewhere on their arms.Our two boys Blitz and Hearth however are different.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Warning : Small scene dipicting abuse and describing it. Not really that bad, just thought you should know. 
> 
> Like usual just going to throw it out there that my spelling and grammar is terrible.

BLITZ POV 

Growing up Blitz thought he was broken. Unlike everyone else he didn't have a soulmate. He always got embarrassed when people would ask him what his words were. Instead of admitting he didnt have the words his soulmate would say the moment they met Blitz would lie and pretend he wanted to keep it to himself. This wasn't unusual, alot of people kept their words to themselves, since they considered it quite personal and intimate. Blitz made sure to always wear long sleeves just to make sure his lack of tatoo wasn't so obvious. He had heard that it was possible, a few people apparently never had tattoos either. Still it upset Blitz, it was hard enough being the oddity in school with his facinscation with fashion and design, losing his father, and being a demigod. Knowing he wouldn't have a soulmate made him feel even more alone. Also he couldn't get over the cruel irony that his mother was the literal god of love, yet he was destined to never find true love. 

Blitz wasn't close with his mom. He had only met her once. It was brief and quite honestly the worst experience ever. He decided early on didn't like his mother Freya very much. His father made up for that. His father was the kindest most hard working guy in the world. His father had been his best friend, and the only person in the world that ever supported him. Whenever the other dwarf children would make fun of him his father always knew how to make him feel better. He would show Blitz the tiny tattoo across his wrist. Small little black block letters that spelled out the words 'Ducky'. His father would tell him about the moment Blitz said his first words whiel at the duck pond. Young Blitz would ask his dad why his soulmate's words weren't written on his wrist instead. His dad would simply reply.

"The words don't necessarily mean your soulmate's first words. They more show the words of the person you care the most about in life. The first words that person will say to you, when you realise that they mean everything to you. And you Blitzen are my greatest creation." 

Yet this meant nothing now. Blitz was alone. His father had been killed by Fenris Wolf leaving him utterly abandoned. Blitz had no friend or family. It was just him now alone in a tiny apartment in a terrible end of town. He had managed to finish his design program at trade school but no one wanted to hire a fashion designer. His craft was seen as useless and a joke to other dwarves. So instead Blitz worked a crummy job at a crummy bar to pay to keep his crummy lonely life. He would give anything to not be alone, anything to have someone he would do anything for because they meant so much.

****  
HEARTH POV

Hearth loved his tattoo so much. Why, well because his was special. And not just because it made him feel like someone out there loved him. No it was because his changed. Hearth didn't know how, or why but his tattoo would randomly shift into different words apparently at random. It usually happened about 15 times a day, sometimes more. Occasionally it would even turn into a small crude drawing. His favourite being tiny ducks wearing clothes.

Ever since he was young he had been fascinated with it. He would constantly roll up his sleeve to see if it had changed and what it would say once it did. Hisbtattoo is what sparked his facination in magic as well. Once he could read he began to read up on magic, like elves of the olden days use to do. Maybe he wpuld come across a story about changing soulmate tattoos. His brother too would be fascinated and Hearth would always excitedly show him when it did. His parents on the other hand would scowl at him and order him to pull his sleeve back down. They would then tell off his brother for using signs to talk to him.

Hearth's parents never liked him. In fact Hearth was pretty sure they loathed him. If it wasn't for the fact his brother loved him so dearly they probably would have shipped him off once he was 5. He also didn't think the liked fact that Hearth had such an amazing tattoo and his brother didn't. It was their one source of shame with his brother for them. Andrion was perfect to them except for that little detail. He had once caught his mother telling his father when Andrion wasn't around that she tought it was Hearths fault Andrion didn't have a soulmate. That maybe Hearthstone had taken his brothers tattoo somehow, and that's why his was different. This didn't make much sense to Hearth, but still the words cut deep. Hearth loved his brother more than anything in the world. If anyone deserved a soulmate it was kind and always cheery Andrion. 

Andrion didn't seem to mind. He would tell Hearth that he didn't have a tattoo because he loved everyone. And there wasn't enough room on his body to hold all the words of all then people he would meet. 

When Andrion was killed Hearths life fell to pieces. His parents took out their anger and resentment on him. They blamed him and were set on making him pay for it. His pain grew larger everyday processing the loss of his brother and the wergild he needed to pay back. His world was without love and compassion with his brother gone. The only thing that kept him going was his tattoo. 

Every day whiel he did his chores and work, and every time he was stuck in his room replaying the terrible words his father had uttered to him he would look at his forearm and see how his soulmate was. The words seemed to reflect what was happening to them, whoever they were, sometimes, other times they seemed to reflect how they were feeling. Then one day when Hearth was 16 the tattoo was stuck on the word 'father' for about a month. Ever since then the words seemed to be almost entirely composed of sad thing and feelings. Where ever his soulmate was Hearth was pretty sure he was having a difficult time. This made him feel closer to this mystery person, they seemed to be just as sad as he was. This made Hearth long to communicate with them somehow to comfort them. He had grown very close to this person over the years even though they never met. Yet Hearth had a feeling that even tho his tattoo seemed to change with his Soul mates hotughts, they didn't seem aware of it, nor did he then think their changed along with him.

*  
Blitz lay collapsed in the shower with the hot water running down his back after a particularly nasty overtime shift. He blankly stared as the water swirled the drain blinking water out of his eyes. He made no attempt to clean himself or even move. The warmth and rhythm of the water helped him feel better. He had run into Junior today. So of course the old dwarf had taken the opportunity to harass him whiel he was at work so he couldn't even fight back. Blitz would think he would be use to the insults from the old dwarf, and the comments about how stupid and useless his father was for getting killed, but even after hearing these things a thousand times it still hurt just as much as the first time.

In this moment he felt desperate and alone. He didn't know what compelled him to do it but he rested his head on the shower wall and looked up at the ceiling. 

"Mom? Odin? Anyone? If you can hear me please help me. I don't want to be alone forever. Please" he choked out, his last word turning into a sobbing squeal. Of course nothing happened. He lay there staring blankly. Just when he decided he should probably get out and maybe go to Nabbies for some Nachos he felt a sharp pain shoot down his arm. Instinctively he grabbed at his forearm with his other hand. He gasp, it felt like someone had cut him with a knife. He looked down surprised to see blood trickling out from under his fingers. Had he accidently cut himself on a razor? He looked around but couldn't spot one. He felt another stab of pain. The blood started seeping out from under his arm turning the water circling the drain red.

"Thor's thunder****" Blitz hissed as he scrambled out of the shower. He grabbed an old towel and wrapped his arm. The cut was pretty big and deep. He began to riddle through his drawers looking for his first aid kit. 

*  
HEARTH'S POV 

Hearth was terrified. He always did his best to not screw up. He always did every task his father gave him with the utmost care. He knew better then to do a mediocre job, everything his father demanded had to be done to perfection. This usually meant taking his time to do these labour intensive task, but today he wasn't given such luxury. His father was having guests over for dinner and Hearth needed to be done with all his regular chores ontop of polishing and dusting all the old expensive objects around the house before 5 o'clock. Hearth didn't finish his regular chores until around 8pm on a good day. He didn't know how he was going to get it all done on time today. So he rushed. 

He knew he shouldn't have done it, but he didn't have a choice. As the clock chimed 4 Hearth was surprised to find himself almost done cleaning the display cases in the main room. Only 34 more panes of glass and crystal to go then he would be off Scott free. His father always has him away in his room when guests come. Hearth would only have to show his face when they first arrived for social expectation, then his father would secretly send him upstairs so as to not embarrass the family. Hearth was looking forward to the rare free time he would get being locked in his room. Inge had managed to sneak him a book on rune magic a couple days ago, and he had been hiding it under his matress ever since waiting for the opportunity to read it.

He was so distracted thinking about the book and free time he didn't notice Inge come up behind him. She tapped his shoulder and he jumped in surprise. Unfortunately he was holding a very old ceramic bowl carved with weird picures of wolves. He fumbled as he tried to catch it, but luck was not on his side. He felt the marble floor rattle as the bowl smashed into a hundred shards.

Hearth bkinked a couple times in shock. He was going to get it. He turned to see Inge who's eyes were wide in horror.

"Im so sorry. I didnt mean to sneak up on you. Omg Hearth I'm so sorry. So so so so sorry." 

Hearth raised his hand to sign something but Inge quickly turned to look over at the door on the other end of the room.

She turned back to him and signed.

"Your father is coming down the stairs, hurry" she bent down as if she was going to pick up the broken bowl. Hearth caught her by the shoulder and signed.

"Get out of here. If he sees you he will punish you as well."

She opened her mouth to say something but Hearth gently pushed her back toward the servants door on the other side of the room. His father would be here soon and he didn't want Inge here when he did. He had seeb his father beat hulders a few times. It shook him to his bones, his father was cruel. He had only seen his father beat Inge twice. The first time he stood pertrified unable to comprehend what was happening. She had tried to sneak him food and was caught. She didn't deserve that ever. The second time he lost his temper and tried to stand in the way. This didn't help much as his father merely had someone come to take him away by force and lock him in his room for a few days. When Inge came to unlock him a few days later her arms were bruised. He wasnt going to watch Inge get hurt anymore, especially on his behalf.

"Go" he signed trying to get across how urgently he meant to send the messge. Inge understood she almost made it out of the room when his father enetered. In his presence she froze and stood by the far wall beside the door. At leasts she's as far away from the crime scene as possible Hearth thought. 

His father walked slowly towards him. His face was its usual scowl of distaste and disgust. He sneered down at Hearth then quickly glanced at his now shattered artifact and then back to sneering.

"Once again you have failed to complete even the simplest of tasks." Hearth saw the words curl off his fathers lips. 

Hearth did his best not to cower although he could feel his body begin to shake. Something about his father made him want to curl up into a ball in a dark corner and never be seen again.

His father bent down slowly and picked up a large shard from the bowl. He turned it in his hand and then losly balanced it in his palm.

"My guest tonight requested to see this bowl. It was the bowl of an ancient king who had recieced it as a blessing from Frey. The bowl was rumored to have the magic provide food for a whole village during harsh winters. And now..." his father trailed off his eyes narrowing as he looked down into his sons face with unmasked loathing. "It is useles just like yourself. It's as if you intentionally wish to disgrace and embarrass your family." 

Hearth went to sign something but his father turned his head in Inges direction. Hearth guessed she had said something. 

"There are no such things as accidents you silly girl." His father spat. 

Inge must have been saying something else but Hearth couldn't see her as she was half hidden by his father and the marble column she was hiding behind. Hearth couldn't hear her but she had obviously said something not to his father's liking.

"Then you will both be punshied for your disappointing failures" he saw his father say and then he started towards Inge. Hearth reacted quickly. He ran, literally ran out infront of his father and began to sign. 

"Not her fault. My fault. I take all the responsibilty..."

His father watched with anger and faint disgust and then reached out and grabbed his arm halfway through a sign. Pain shot down Hearth's arm. His father still had the piece of ceramic in his hand and the sharp end cut across his forearm. His father held on to his arm togtht pushing in the sharp shrapnel. Hearth tried to pull away but his father was surprisingly strong.

"I will not tolerate those ridiculous hand movements in my house" his father spat out, his face and eye blazing in anger. His father's grip tightened and Hearth felt himself let out a gasp of pain, and he felt the blood begin to run out from under his father's hand. His father let go at that. Hearth stumbled back holding his now bloody arm trying not to wince and show the pain in his face. He father looked down at his blood stained hand and tossed the shard on the floor. He spat something at Inge who quickly hurried out of the room. She came back with a cloth for his father to clean his hands on.

"To your room" his father ordered him and then turned to Inge. "Pick this up before my guests arrive" 

Hearth practically ran out of the room and upstairs to his room. He ran into the bathroom and began to clean up his cut. It was deep and wouldn't stop bleeding. It stung as well. He dug a set of dirty sheets out of his hamper he put in their this morning. He tore off a length of it and made a makeshift bandage. It bled through the fabric a few times and he just added more wrapping. Soon it appeared to have stoped. It still flared with pain underneath, but this was all he could do. 

He went to lay on his matress on the floor in the corner of his room. He looked down at his arm. His father had never hurt him physcially before. Eleves didn't hit their children, it was not socially acceptable. This had him shaking as he lay under his thin sheet. He was terrified. He looked over at his tattoo. Looking at it always helped make him feel better becuase it made him feel not so alone. Also it was kind of habit now. Just above his wrapped up cut he saw the black words. He wasnt surprised the words had changed, it was the meassge that took him by surprise. They were as if they had come from a thought instead of words.

"Sliced my arm, gods it hurts"

Hearth looked at it curiously and re read it a bunch of times. His mind began to spin on 3rd gear. 'There was no way' he thought to himself as a crazy explanation came to mind. He looked down again to notice the words had changed again.

"Thank the gods for 24hr drugmarts" 

If the situtaion hadn't been so wierd Hearth would have laughed. But this was different. He knew he had a pretry good link to what was happening to his soulmate from his tattoo, but these were like thoughts directly from their head. And ontop of that Hearth was now starting to suspect he might be able to communicate with his soulmate somehow.

*

To be continued


	2. Small Scratches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hearth tries something. Blitz finally gets a soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely not the best thing i have ever written. But I wanted to continue this story.

Hearth sat in the corner of the kitchen at a small table. It was lunch time and he hadn't eaten all day, but the stale dry leftovers from last night weren't too appetizing. Still he ate through it slowly, chasing it with water so that it had some moisture. He kept picking at the bandages he had wrapped around his arm. The cut had healed to a thick red scab. It still hurt when he touched it but the worse was over. He kept it wrapped to stop it from accidently opening again. 

He had slowly been boiling a theory he had about his cut and what had happened to his tattoo. He didnt want to try anything tho. In all honestly a part of him thought he was being crazy. But then another idea came to his head. If tattoos were suspose to have the first words your soulmate spoke to you, then what would happen to his soulmate's tatto given he was deaf. Hearth couldn't speak. Well he could a little but he refused to. He was completely deaf which meant, Ahe wasnt good at it, and B didnt feel comfortable doing it. He refused to even attempt to talk. This angered Hearth's parents which made it a bonus to keep quiet. Also he didn't appreciate the terrible things they would say when he tried to use his voice. Given all this it brought up the question if his soulmate even had a tattoo. If Hearth didnt speak then what would show up on their arm. Would it be the first thing he signed? Or would his soulmate's tattoo be like his. Would it change and reflect more real time thoughts and feelings of him like his did? But then there was the wierd thing that happened with his cut. Hearth knew deep down that what he thought couldn't be true. Yet the idea had been in his head so long the urge try what he had been pondering on grew. 

Hearth reached down and pulled off his bandage carefully. The area around his cut was red and the scab was an unpleasant dark brown red bumpy and raised. Right now his tatoo depicted an ornated drawing of a fancy suit. This was pretty normal. Usually every Sunday his arm depicted some elegant design or pattern for a nice article of clothing. He wondered if his soulmate worked at a clothing store. Hearth walked over to the cupboard and picked out a toothpick. He went back to the table and carefully drew on his forarm above his cut.

'Hello' 

Where the toothpick scratched the surface his skin turned white and then faded to pink. The words were clearly visible on his skin. He waited a few minutes with baited breath but his excitment began to dwindle as time passed and nothing showed up on his arm. He internally curserd himself for getting his hopes up. A part of him believed this was going to work, but Hearth was being nieve. Of course it wouldnt work. Magic wasn't real anymore. He pulled his sleeve back up. He quickly cleaned up his lunch mess and climbed upstairs to sweep the entirety of the second floor. 

*   
Blitz POV 

Blitz was enjoying one of his few precious days off the best way he knew how. He was working on finally putting togther a three piece suit he had worked so hard designing in his free time. He spent most of the morning laying out the fabric he had meticulously weaved from some very expensive merino wool he had bought. After he dyed the wool a dark charcoal he had figured out a way to make the wool extremly thin so that the final product was super light and thin but just as warm. Now he laid it all out on his work table carefully tracing the paterrn on the fabric. 

He was just placing the last stencil over the fabric when he felt a twinge of pain on his arm like he was being scratched. He pulled his arm back. His cut from the bathtub had been healing nicely, but he still kept it wrapped to avoid infection. The scratching continued and then stopped. It now itched slighlty. Maybe he had opened the cut by accident. He rolled back his sleeve and began to undo his bandages. His cut looked fine. Nothing had opened and it wasn't bleeding. Then he saw the words 'hello' scrarched in bright pink above his cut. He was so shocked he almost fell off his chair when he tilted it back too far.

There was no way this was real. He starred at the words for a fee minutes before his brain caught up with the situation. He ran his fingers lightly over the scratch. His skin was slightly raised but it didn't hurt. He ran across the idea maybe it was a coincidence or an accident. But then his brain told him that there was no way words that clear could accidently show up. The only explanation was that his prayer had been answered. He had a soulmate. He wasn't alone. The words on his arm were proof.

Still there was somwthing odd about the words on his arm. How come they were scratched in and not black like an ink tattoo. He thought about his mother and how much she loved messing with people. Had she actually answered his prayer or was she messing with him. There was only one way to find out. He looked around his desk for something to scratch himself with. The only two things close by were a pair of sissors, that was a no, a fabric pencil, not sharp enough, and a full pin cushion. He pulled off a pin and carefully scratched under the words on his arm. 

'Hello'

In true Blitzen flair he did it in his elegant cursive writing. It was difdicult but he hoped that if this was real that his soulmate would appreciate it.

*

Hearth's pov

 

Once Hearth had finished sweeping all of the second floor, and mopped the whole house. He now had 20 minutes to eat supper before he had to wash all the windows in the house, which was a task he wasnt looking forward too. His house was practically all windows. He shuffled down to the kitchen. Someone had set out his dinner in the small table in the corner. Some crackers and peanut butter a small piece of celery and a glass of water. He sighed at his sad dinner, but was grateful none the less. He pulled out his chair and smiled when he saw the apple sitting on the chiar hidden from view. Inge must have set out his dinner today and had left him an apple. Alone he let himself smile at the gesture. Inge was a wonderful person. He quickly picked up the apple and put it in his pocket for later. 

He finished his meal fairly quickky. So he slowly finished his water drawing out the time so that he had the whole 20 minutes for dinner. 

When he was done he walked over to the sink to wash his plate. He rolled back his sleeves so they didn't get wet and did his usual check on his tatoo. His tattoo had changed. This time only one word 'soulmate', but this isn't what shocked him. No what shocked him was the elegant word now scrtahced under the fainting word he had wrote. His soulmate had written back.

'Hello'

Hearth's heart skipped a few beats. He felt like jumping for joy. He rushed back to the cabinet to get another toothpick. He paused thinking about what to write next when he saw the door to the kitchen swing open. 

The kitchen went cold as his father walked in. His nose upturnef and his face in its usual disapproving sneer.

"Hearthstone, enough of your time wasting. Back to work or I will take 50 gold from you for wasting my time"

Hearth nodded and quickly hurried out of the kitchen avoiding eye contact with his father.

Once he got far enough away from his father he hunched down in the cleaning supplies cupboard. He pulled out the toothpick a mnd quickly scratched back a message.

"My name is Hearthstone. What's yours?"

He pulled hissm sleeve up further so he wouldnt miss the reply and gathered up the window cleaning supplies.

*  
Blitz pov 

Blitz sat for awhiel waiting for a respose. He didnt know if it would qowrk but his hopes were high. After a few minutes of waiting he came to the conclusion that even if it did work his soulmate probably didnt see it yet. So he went to the kitchen to grab a bottle of mead whiel he waited. Knowing he wouldn't be able focus on his work he crashed on the couch with his mead. He tunred on the t.v. and did his best to pay attention to the food channel whiel his mind raced with questions about the scratches on his arm. As he watched the guy an screen pull some taffy he felt the scratching on his arm again. He quickly put down his mead and looked down at his arm. 

'My name is Hearthstone. What's yours?' Was scratched on his dark skin in neat block letters.

Blitz gently ran his fingers over the the word Hearthstone. The name made him feel warm inside. Yet it was an odd name. Not a name he would expect from any dwarf, then again his father had named him Blitzen. He wondered if Hearthstone was a nickname. He looked around for his pin. He carefully wrote back.

"Blitzen son of..." he paused. Maybe telling your soulmate you're the demigod son of Freya isn't the best way to introduce yourself. But his father had always told him to be polite and introduce himself properly, no matter how much he didn't like his mom. Dwarves were matriachial that way. He finished his sentence with a grumble. "Freya" 

He waited looking down at his arm. There wasn't much room left on his arm with his healing cut and the other scratches. After a few minutes words slowly scrathed their way across the little space left. The words smaller as if his soulmate had been thinking the same thing he was.

"I dont like my mother much either."

Blitz pondered those words. How did Hearthstone know he didn't like his mother. He hadnt said anything at all. He wanted to ask how they knew. Actually he wanted to ask them alot of questions. The problem was that only a small amount of skin was left. He frowned as he thought about how to make this work. Then an idea came to his head like someone had turned on a lighbulb like in a cartoon. He picked up his pin and wrote. 

"One second"

He then got up and grabbed a pen off the coffee table. He then scrawed in blue ink over his forarm. 

"Can you see this? Im using a pen instead of a pin"

He waited with baited breath. Then he felt some scratches on his arm again.

The word were small and cramped between old scratches. He tilted his head to read them.

"I need to find a pen"

Blitz's face broke into a huge grin.


	3. Where in the 9 worlds?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hearth learns nore about Blitzen.

Hearth's spirits had risen ever since he and Blitzen found a way to communicate. He now found himself carrying a pen he had 'borrowed' from his mothers desk everywhere. Every free second he had he would use to talk to Blitzen and write his reply on his forearm. In the past month he had learned alot about Blitzen. Like a ton. 

He had leanred that Blitzen was a demigod, son of Freya. If this fact that the gods were still alive and active, and that his soulmate was a demigod was wierd that didn't compare to the other piece of information he found out. 

One evening whiel dusting artifacts Hearth was waiting to talk with Blitzen. He knew Blitzen got off work around 8pm on Mondays. Blitzen talked to him sometimes whiel workig, but aparently he was very busy today. So when 8 pm came and went with no reply Hearth started to feel upset if not a little anxious. He finished his dusting and went up stairs to go to sleep. Only when he had finished showering and brushing his teeth did he feel the familiar feeling of a pen gliding across his arm. He rolled up his sleeve to see what Blitzen had written.

"Sorry my boss kept me until mossglow. There was a making so they bar stayed open late."

Hearth cocked his head as he read the words. 'Mossglow?' 'Making'?. Maybe he was reading it wrong. Or maybe Blitzen was so tired he mispelled whatever it was he was trying to write. He wondered where in the world Blitz lived for it to so late there. Probably the other side of the world he assumed.

He pulled out his pen from his pocket and replied.

"That sucks. You should look for a new job. This place sounds aweful"

Hearth collapsed on his bed leaving the lights on so he could continue to talk to Blitz.

"Im just staying there until I save enough to open up a clothing shop. I think I can stick it out. Plus the tips are good" was the reply that came back in its usually elegant cursive.

Hearth knew Blitz loved fashion. That much waas obvious from his tatoo, and also the way Blitzen taked about clothes, and his ideas for designs.

"You want to open a clothing store?" Hearth asked.

Blitzen took a little longer to reply this time. 

"Ya I want to design and sell my own fashion line. I'm tired of seeing terrible quality designs on everybody. What do you want to do?"

Hearth paused for a second and starred at the flouresent light above his bed. He never dreamed about the future. He knew his fate. He was going to be stuck here repaying his debt until he died, or at least until his father died, and that was going to take awhiel. He might not make it that long. But the question got him thinking. What would he want to do if he ever got out of here. He definitely dreamed about escaping. The one thing that always came to mind was what he wanted to be when he was little. 

"I want to be a wizard. A real wizard with rune magic. Then I'd travel the nine worlds."

After he wrote it regret started to sink in. What if that was too wierd a thing to say. Most elves didn't even believe in that stuff. His father was one of the few that did, and that was because he had proof in the magic objects he collected. But his father jealously guarded those. Prefering to keep that knowledge for himself.

Hearth was almost beside himself when Blitz wrote back.

"That would be amazing. My father once mentioned that learning magic was the hardest thing you could ever do, and that's why there are no mortal rune casters.But I bet if anyone could do it it would be you." 

Hearth smiled at that. Blitz was always so kind to him. He hadn't even met him yet he always knew what to say to make his day.

"I also think you would make the most stylish and popular clothing line ever." He wrote back as his heart fluttered with affection towards his mystery soulmate.

There was another long pause before Blitz answered again.

"I dont know. Everyone thinks I'm crazy focusing on fashion. No one recognizes fashion as a craft. Everyone except my dad told me I'm wasting my time and to get into a real craft"

Hearth frowned at this. His heart dropped in sympathy. In one of their previous talks Blitz had talked about how he lost his father. He wouldn't say how, and Hearth guessed it was because he was still very distraught over it. His father had obviously meant alot to him.

He tried to think of a reply. He didnt know where Blitzen was but he found it odd that everyone around him told him fashion design was a waste of time. If anything elves were obsessed with fashion. They were obsessed with anything they could use to show off affluence. His mother even had her own stylist for special occasions. Fashion seemed like a reasonable carreer choice.  
Then he thought about all the other odd things Blitzen had said. Hearth had assumed they were mistakes or he had read then wrong, but pieces were starting to fall togther. He recalled lessons he use to take with Andrion where their tutor would tell them about the history of the gods and the 9 wolrds. He was starting to suspect something.

"Hey Blitzen. What's mossglow?"

Slowly he watched as Blitzen wrote back. 

"You know the time of day when the moss glows"

"And what's a making?"

"They dont have makings where you are? Its a craft competition. You know with forges and smelting, and device and weapon making."

Hearth pursed his lips at that. That was definitely not an elf thing. No where in Alfheim had something like that.

'Are you a dwarf?" 

He didn't mean to be so direct but he couldn't think of a nice way to ask 'hey are you another species from another world?' Without sounding rude or possibly crazy.

"Ya. Well technically Savartzelf since you know... my mom. Why are you not a dwarf?"

Hearth paused. Oh this was all too wierd. He had heard about the 9 worlds, and a large part of him believed they existed. But this was all too real. The idea that his soulmate was another race from another world was so foreign. He shook his head a couple times to get his head straight before he wrote back, not wanting to wait too long and freak Blitzen out waiting.

"No I'm an alf. I live in Alfheim."

He laid stock still waiting for a reply to this new realisation they were both discovering.

"Leave it to my mother to fill my life with more irony"

Hearth laughed at that. Blitz had taken this better then he was. Maybe being a demigod made this wierd revelation more believable to Blitzen. Hearth on the other hand had just had his world open up before him. The 9 worlds were real. Which meant learning to be a wizard wasn't so ridiculous after all.


End file.
